Little Boy Lost
by Falling to Fly
Summary: It only took one moment for him to be taken from their lives. Unfortunately, he didn't even know he was missing.
1. Accident

**Hello all! Road to Nowhere is proving to be incredibly hard to write right now, and although I was originally planning to start the 100 Themes Challenge or do some Kendall angst, this story grabbed hold of me and I just couldn't put it off. I'm not abandoning anything, but I will only write for whatever fic that I'm most inspired for at the moment. Right now, it's this, so I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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His friends were going to kill him.

This was the third time in the past week he'd been late to rehearsals, and every time he didn't make it to the studio on time Gustavo punished them, whether it was by making them sing harmonies all day or staying late to work on their dancing longer or whatever other cruel thing he could come up with. None of them were ever happy when that happened, and they were going to be especially mad it him since it would be his fault. Again.

In his defense though, it really wasn't _completely _his fault. No one had reminded him that they were supposed to work today, and if Katie hadn't happened to see him lying on the couch, he wouldn't have known until even later. Plus, he had to drive even further than usual because Griffin had ordered Gustavo and Kelly to take them to another studio about thirty miles outside of Los Angeles, as some stupid test to see how the group would work in places they weren't used to. It made no sense, but then again, it _was _one of Griffin's ideas, and the boys had all quickly learned not to argue with him. And then on top of everything else that was making him late, it had started raining the second he got into his car. This was just _fantastic. _

Briefly he wondered why his friends had left without thinking to bring him, but then he remembered they had all had plans and told him that they were getting rides on their own. Before they had left they had specifically warned him that he had better not be late to this rehearsal, because if he was "he would never see the light of day again." His friends certainly were an interesting bunch.

He glanced down at the radio clock and cursed, easing his foot down on the gas to make the car speed up. He punched a button, turning on the radio to his favorite station. Music always helped to calm his nerves, and he was anything but relaxed at the moment. But instead of hearing the familiar sounds of The Script or Katy Perry, there was only static. He sighed in frustration, shutting off the radio. He wanted to look through the collection of CDs he knew he had in the console between the seats, but the rain was coming down in sheets now and he didn't dare take his attention off the road.

Thunder boomed in the distance, but he continued to ignore it. Rain pounded against the windshield and no matter how fast the windshield wipers slid over it, most of the road in front of him was just one big blur. He wasn't even sure what street he was on anymore because he'd started relying on the built-in GPS a few miles back, but he knew that all there was on either side of him was trees. It was amazing how different things were only a few miles from the city. Too bad he couldn't see it.

Clouds darkened the sky, making it even harder to see. He glanced down at the speedometer, frowning when he saw that he was going at about sixty miles per hour. It was a bit too fast for his liking, especially since the roads were so slick, but he _needed _to get to rehearsal. He hesitated for a few more seconds, then pushed the pedal down a little further.

His phone started ringing from where it rested on the passenger seat, and he didn't have to look to know that it was one of his friends. They were no doubt beyond mad at him,and wanting to know how far away he was. He looked down at the GPS and groaned. Ten more miles before he would be there, not to mention how long it would take him to park and find the booth they would be recording in today. Oh yeah. His friends were _definitely _going to kill him.

Everything outside appeared to melted into one dark blob. Rain continued to assault the window as his phone finally stopped ringing, only to start again two seconds later. He sighed but kept both hands tightly on the wheel. He was already fighting for control of the car as it was, and he didn't want to accidently hit anything; that would just further delay his arrival, and he was already way too late as it was. He pressed down on the gas pedal again, ignoring the sudden nervous feeling in his stomach. He was going way too fast for the conditions he was driving in and he was really pushing it.

The next second, two things happened simultaneously. His phone started ringing again, no doubt from a call from whichever of his friends hadn't called him, and he finally reached down for the little device. And then there was a small '_pop'_ that he could only assume was something puncturing his tire, and he was suddenly fishtailing.

Immediately he threw the phone back down and grabbed the wheel, gasping as he fought desperately to get the car to straighten out. But his previous speed mixed with the slippery road made it impossible, and before he could even comprehend what was happening, he was swerving off the road and right into one of the patches of trees that lined the road.

The impact was inevitable. He remembered being told one time that if you were ever in a car accident, you were to let your body go slack. Keeping it tense would just increase risk of breaking something, and you were just supposed to go with the flow. So that's what he did as his car continued to slide and swerve dangerously right towards the trees. He yanked on the wheel as hard as he could in one last desperate attempt, and then the car had made contact with the trunk of a tree.

His whole body slammed into the side of the window, his head bouncing of the glass with a painful smack. He was dimly aware of a sudden fire in his leg, but his head swimming and he was barely holding onto consciousness. He heard the metal crunching as his door was crushed, but he couldn't move away because his whole body suddenly felt so heavy. Something warm and wet was running down his head and leg, as well as a few other parts of his body.

Groaning, he tried to push himself up from where he was sagging against the steering wheel. He put a hand to his head as a million needles of pain suddenly stabbed through it. Why did it hurt so bad? When he pulled his hand away, it was wet and red. Red? He pulled it closer to him, straining to see in the darkness. He felt bile rise up in his stomach as his mind finally processed what he was seeing and he realized what was on his hand. _Blood. _

As fuzzy as his mind was, he knew one thing: He needed help, and he needed it fast. His fingers wrapped unbuckled his seat belt and he opened the door, unceremoniously tumbling from the car and onto the ground. The dull crunch of leaves reached his ears, but he was barely aware of it. He tried to push himself to his feet, but he collapsed back to the ground as his leg erupted with pain. A scream tore from his lips before he could stop it, and he nearly blacked out from the pain and he grabbed his leg, cradling it.

His breathing came out in labored gasps as he tried to manage the pain. His vision blurred as he tried to find something to focus on to distract himself from the pain. He was barely aware as his phone started ringing again, and he would have cursed himself for not calling someone before attempting to get out of the car if he could form a coherent thought.

Rain continued to pour around him, pressing his hair flat against his head and washing the blood off of his face. He heard the sound of leaves crunching from somewhere off to the side, and then suddenly someone was leaning down over to him. Another figure appeared out of nowhere, and the two knelt over him. He could hear the distant sound of voices, and then one of the figures pulled him into their arms.

A whimper of pain escaped him as his leg was jostled, and the voices grew dimmer as he struggled to hang onto consciousness. He felt someone lift him off the ground, cradling him in their arms as they slowly began to move, careful not to cause him any more discomfort. He noticed another car, headlights shining right on him. Without meaning to, he shut his eyes against the bright glare. He tried to open them again, but they were just so heavy...

The blackness closed over him like a blanket, and the last thing he knew was that he was being gently laid down in the backseat of a car and a blanket was being pulled up to his shoulders. Then the darkness won out and pulled him under, and he knew no more.

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**Um… Oops. I know it was a bit short, but I think I squeezed as much as I could into this first chapter. Any guesses as to which boy it is? In this story, all four boys can drive without an adult in the car, so don't jump to conclusions. I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this, so please review!**


	2. Awake

**So I watched that new movie, Best Player, last night. The whole time I was thinking eh, this is okay. You know, good but not super fantastic. And then they played Big Night at the end and I gained a whole new respect for it. Hahaa. Um, anyway, thanks for the **_**fantastic**_** response to the first chapter! I know it was super vague, but… Well, you'll see. :) And also, to anyone who reads ****YesImAGuy formerly creative425****'s stories, his computer is broken so he won't be able to update until weekends. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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The pain came in different shades. There was a dull ache all over his body, seeming to center in around his head and left leg. Then there were the little needles of pain that shot through his chest every time he took in a breath. Lastly, there was the white hot bursts of agony that shot through his entire body every time he tried to move. He hurt everywhere, and he strained to remember what on earth could have happened to put him in this much discomfort.

He moaned in pain as he shifted around, clamping his eyes shut as far as they would go as his fingers curled around soft sheets. _Wait, soft sheets? _Biting back another groan, he opened his eyes, blinking furiously as a bright light assaulted his pupils. When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized that he was in a white bed in a white room with white machines and white chairs and just lots and lots of _white._ It made his head pound to look at, and he just barely restrained from shutting his eyes and letting the darkness pull him back under.

The boy shifted his head to the side, instantly regretting it as his vision swam. Through bleary eyes, he noticed a little white machine next to his bed with a black screen, a glowing green line jumping up every second or so. An annoying beeping sound went off in sync with the line, and he found himself staring at it, almost hypnotized. In the plain white room, it provided a great source of entertainment, and it wasn't until something moved in front of him that he was able to tear his gaze away.

There was a woman standing in the doorway of the room, wearing- of course- a white uniform. Noticing that he was watching her with dazed eyes, she smiled cheerfully. "Oh good, sweetie! It's great to see that you're awake. Are you in pain? Do you need a doctor, or anything else?" There was a genuine concern in her sugar-coated words, and he tried to place where he had heard it before. _A nurse. _He wasn't sure where the thought came from, but as soon as the name popped into his head he was sure of it. This woman was a nurse. Suddenly a piece of the puzzle fell into place, and although he was sure he knew, he had to ask: "Where am I?"

The nurse continued to smile at him. "You're in a hospital, sweetie. Do you remember anything?" At a shake of his head, her smile wavered for a split-second before returning at full force. "You were in a car accident, and a nasty one at that. Your family found you and brought you here. Ringing any bells?" He blinked at her. _A car accident? _He shook his head again, straining to remember something, anything. There was nothing.

The nurse- he noticed that her nametag said "Becky"- continued to smile, but it was beginning to look a little forced. "Well, why don't we call your doctor in so he can check over you? Then maybe we can get your family in here. I'm sure they're worried sick." He nodded and Becky left, returning moments later with a tall man in a white coat. What was it with hospitals and the color white?

The man stepped into the room, glancing down at a clipboard he was holding and then looking back at the young man on the bed. "Hello there, son. I'm Dr. Gomez, and I'll be your attending physician during your stay." He made it sound almost like some kind of vacation. "Are you in any pain?"

The boy started to shake his head no, paused as his splitting headache flared, then whispered, "Yes." Dr. Gomez nodded, seeming unsurprised. "Well, Nurse Becky will give you something to make you more comfortable and then when you wake up perhaps we can get your family back to see you."

"Okay," the boy murmured. He felt lost, like someone had blindfolded him and spun him around a bunch of times. He was trying with every ounce of strength he could muster to remember what had happened, what had brought him up to this point, but he was continuously drawing a blank. It was frustrating, _agonizing, _but there nothing. In fact, he couldn't even remember-

"Okay sweetie, I'm just going to give you a mild sedative and…" He looked up to see Becky cleaning a hypodermic needle and moving next to his bed. The nurse expertly plunged the syringe into the IV connected to his arm, emptying its contents and stepping back. "There now. You just relax, and when you wake up everything will be better. Does that sound good?"

She was talking to him like he was a five year old, but he took comfort in her reassuring words. "M'kay," he muttered, surprised by how fast the drug was taking effect. Already he could feel his pain numbing and everything began to dim. _"When you wake up, everything will be better."_ With that in mind, he let the medicine do its work and soon he found himself sinking back into the darkness, letting it claim him once again.

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The next time he woke, the pain had receded to a dull ache and it was easier to move. The boy opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the brightness and looking around tiredly. He froze when he noticed two people sitting in the chairs next to his bed.

It was a man and a woman, and he could only assume they were a couple. Although he was sitting, it was easy to tell that the man was tall. Dark, peppered hair seemed to match his serious eyes perfectly, and he was watching the boy with a mixture of worry and apprehension. The woman was shorter and had long blonde hair, but it seemed to be dyed, so he couldn't be sure what her real color was. Both of them appeared to be in their mid-forties and looked incredibly tired, as though they hadn't slept in days.

As if they felt his eyes on them, both adults' heads snapped up. The emotion in their eyes turned from worry to surprise to relief in a split second. "Oh thank God," the woman murmured, leaning against the man tiredly. The boy looked at the two people sitting before them, trying to place their faces. Had he ever seen them before? The way they kept looking him said that he probably had, but he couldn't remember…

"Son? Are you okay?" the man asked, noticing the confused face. The boy blinked at him. _Son? _So this was his father? And that must mean that the woman was his mother… right? He opened his mouth to respond but instantly broke out into a fit of harsh coughing. The woman gasped, jumping up and rushing to his side in a panic. "Sweetie? Sweetie, are you okay, are you in pain?" she asked, desperately looking for the cause of his discomfort. He shook his head, clearing his throat before trying again. "Are… are you my… parents?" he rasped.

The two exchanged wide-eyed looks before turning back to him and nodding. "Yes sweetheart, remember? I'm your mom, and this is your father. You remember us, right?" The two held their breath, watching him with pleading eyes for his response.

The boy blinked, trying to recall ever having seen their faces. "Um…" He honestly didn't remember them, but he didn't want to disappoint them with his answer. "I…" The people in front of him exchanged another look. "Honey, it's okay if you don't remember. We won't be mad," the woman- his mom- said gently. He nodded, looking down at his hands in shame. "I don't remember," he whispered.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the man- his father- looking down at him with caring, understanding eyes. The boy tried to return his smile, but it turned to a grimace as tears filled his eyes. They noticed instantly, and his mother reached for the call button on the side of his bed. "Are you hurting? Do we need to call your doctor?" she asked again. He shook his head, blinking back the tears and hating himself for crying. He was just so _frustrated_. He felt like he should remember something, anything, but his brain was coming up with absolutely nothing.

"Then what's wrong? Maybe we should call your doctor anyway, just to make sure…" Before he could answer, she had pressed the button. The doctor appeared in the doorway within moments, nodding in approval when he saw that the boy was awake and seemed to be alert. "Ah good, you're awake! How are you feeling?" Dr. Gomez asked, noticing his patient's bloodshot, watery eyes with a frown.

The boy blinked, seeming to struggle to find an answer. "I… feel much better, thanks," he said, offering the doctor a weak smile. "Good, good," the doctor said, scribbling something down on his clipboard. "Does anything hurt? How are your leg and head doing?" The boy looked down and realized for the first time that his left leg was in a cast. "I-I… It's a little sore, but it doesn't hurt too bad. Is that good?"

The doctor nodded and smiled reassuringly. "Yes, it just means the medicine we gave you is doing its work. But you're sure your head isn't in a lot of pain? You came in with a pretty serious concussion, and we haven't been able to completely check since you've been unconscious." The boy looked at him, biting his lip. "Well, my head doesn't hurt that bad, but… I can't… I can't remember anything. Is that normal?"

The doctor's smile wavered, and he suddenly looked slightly worried. "You don't remember anything?" At his patient's nod, Dr. Gomez frowned and looked over at the boy's parents. "I was afraid that something like this would happen. Head injuries alone are something to worry about, but when the victim is unconscious as long as your son was…" He suddenly turned back to the boy. "I need you to think really hard about this, okay? I need you to tell me earliest thing you can remember. Can you do that for me?"

The boy nodded, closing his eyes and thinking hard. The three adults watched him in apprehension, waiting anxiously for his answer. When he opened his eyes, they were full of fear and confusion. Always confusion. "I can't… I remember waking up here, and then that nurse coming in. But I-I can't remember anything before that," he said, looking up with wide eyes. "That's bad, right? There's something wrong with me."

Dr. Gomez looked at his parents before turning back to the boy in concern. "Perhaps we should save this discussion for later. I don't want to risk distressing you before you've healed a little bit more." The boy shook his head wildly, wincing at the dull ache. "No, you have to tell me now! I need to know what happened!" he pleaded. Seeing the reluctant look on the doctor's face, he added quietly, "Please?"

Dr. Gomez didn't look happy, but finally nodded his consent when he saw the desperation in the boy's eyes. "Okay, but if I believe the information is causing any stress that could be harmful to your health, we _will _stop." The boy nodded, even though the doctor wasn't asking for his permission. He just needed to know _something_.

Still watching him carefully, Dr. Gomez began to speak. "Last Thursday you were involved in a car accident a few miles outside of Los Angeles. Your parents found you unconscious on the side of the road and brought you in. You received a concussion and a broken leg, as well as a multitude of minor lacerations and contusions, or cuts and bruises. There was also the issue of blood loss, but that was easily resolved. My main concern was your head injury, and the longer you were unconscious the more we had to worry about. Now it seems that-"

The boy cut him off before he could continue. "How long was I out?" he demanded, his fear suddenly rising. Dr. Gomez frowned at him. "Perhaps we should stop…" His patient shook his head frantically, trying to sit up further. "No! How long was I unconscious?" The doctor looked at the boy's parents, who were watching their son with wide eyes, and sighed. "Very well. Today is Wednesday, so that would make it about six days since you were brought in," he said, watching carefully for a reaction.

He could only stare at the doctor in shock. "_Six _days?" he repeated hoarsely, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The doctor nodded grimly. "I really think we should stop there for now. You get some rest, and I'll come back later so that I can give you a full evaluation." Dr. Gomez turned and left the room to attend to his other patients, sighing sadly as he entered the hallway. He'd been working at this hospital for sixteen years, and it never got any easier to see the effects of head injuries. Hopefully, the boy would eventually return the way he had before. The doctor knew from years of experience that memory loss was not an easy thing to deal with. Ever.

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The boy looked at his parents, fighting the sudden exhaustion that was claiming to take him. "Sweetheart, you should really do what the doctor said and rest," his mother said. Her voice was stern, but with a genuine concern that came with being a parent. He nodded, but there was still one thing he needed to know before he could even attempt to sleep peacefully. Of all the things he'd forgotten, this was the one that scared him the most.

He looked over at his parents nervously and swallowed hard. "Hey mom, what's… What's my name?"

The two adults looked at each other for what seemed like the millionth time before turning back to him sadly. "You really don't remember that?" his father asked quietly, but this time he didn't seem very surprised. The boy nodded and both of them sighed before his dad answered. "My name is Michael Revenal, this is your mother, Denise, and you're name is Dylan Braden Revenal."

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**Well obviously that's not his name. The liars. :) But anyway, let me explain myself before you bring out your pitchforks. I stumbled across a fic a long time ago in another archive where the author kept the identity of the character a mystery until close to the end, and I thought it was really cool so I decided to try it. It's a bit hard because you have to use 'he' and 'the boy' over and over again, but I think it might turn into something really cool. So, keep your guesses (and reviews) coming, and we'll see where this goes! Reviews would be wonderful! :)**


	3. Home

**Okay. So I got home after an all day volleyball tournament late last night and I was exhausted but I still turned on the KCA's, which I had recorded, just to watch all the parts with Big Time Rush. Their performance was amazing and I am beyond sad and disappointed that they lost because I think we all know that they deserved to win more than anyone. And now I'm so upset by what happened that I think I'm going to boycott Black Eyed Peas and iCarly. Anyone with me? :/ Oh, and if this chapter is awful it's because my mind is still reeling.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

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Memory loss can be caused by many different things. In some cases, it comes from aging. Other times, it comes from some type of medical condition, such as Alzheimer's disease or a stroke. There are even some drugs that can mess with your mind and make it hard to remember things. But _his _amnesia wasn't caused by any of those. No, his condition was caused by trauma to his head, which meant that there was no real way to treat or cure him. The doctors were hoping that, with time, his memories would gradually come back to him and things could be like they once were. But there was also the very great possibility that this would be permanent.

The doctors had been running tests on him for the past few days. A CAT scan, an MRI, and a bunch of other things that Dylan really didn't understand. Apparently the part of his brain that had been damaged- and again, he couldn't get the name straight- was one of several parts responsible for retaining memories. The damage wasn't life threatening, but there was no telling when or even if his brain would be able to heal itself.

His parents assured him that no matter what happened, everything would be okay. If he couldn't remember on his own, they would make sure to tell him everything he was missing and everything would be fine. But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to form the picture himself. It was agonizing to have to sit there hour after hour, day after day and pretend that he knew that these people were his family, that he was there son, when he wasn't sure he was. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, he just… he didn't trust them. He didn't trust anyone, though, because he couldn't remember if he was supposed to or not. He was just so confused, and there was absolutely _nothing _anyone could do about it.

Dylan looked up as his father knocked on the door and poked his head in, smiling down at his son. "Hey Ace! How are you feeling today?" Mr. Revenal had started calling him "Ace" the day after he woke up. Apparently it was something he'd called Dylan since he was little, and the way he used it so casually and naturally it was easy to believe. But there was something about it that just felt... _wrong. _He figured it was just his amnesia, though. After all, what else could it be?

"Oh, hey Dad," Dylan said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He hadn't been getting much sleep since he woke up, and it had left his body exhausted. For some reason, lying helplessly in a hospital bed just didn't sit well with him, and while his parents jokingly assured him that he only had cabin fever, he was ready to get the heck out of that stupid hospital bed. Dr. Gomez had assured him that he would be able to go home soon enough, and that for now he should just try to relax and heal.

By the end of the week Dylan had decided that he didn't like being in the hospital one bit. His parents were constantly fussing over him, acting like he would break at any moment. Not to mention how agitated they'd seemed, especially when they thought he was asleep. Dr. Gomez was nice enough, but it was annoying how he came in everyday to run tests and would pull Dylan's parents out of the room so that he couldn't hear what they were talking about. Being cooped up didn't sit well with him, and on top of everything he still couldn't remember anything before he'd woken up. Plus, the TV channels the hospital had were absolutely _awful. _So when his doctor finally informed him that he would be able to leave the next day, it was all Dylan could do not to burst into song.

"Dr. Gomez said that he'll need to give you one last check up and then you'll be free to go," Mr. Revenal said, glancing over his shoulder to see if the doctor was anywhere near. Dylan nodded, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment. His cuts and bruises had healed for the most part over the last few days, and his body had lost the constant ache that plagued it. The only two injuries that he would really have to pay attention to once he was released from the hospital was his broken leg and, of course, his concussion and memory loss.

There was a slight knock on the door and then Dr. Gomez walked in, holding his ever present clipboard in one hand. A nurse trailed behind him, pushing a wheelchair. Dylan eyed it suspiciously. "What's that for?" The nurse smiled at him kindly, wheeling the chair up to his bed. "Well sweetie, not only did you break your leg, but you've been in the hospital for nearly two weeks. Your legs need to get used to walking and moving around again, and your parents and Dr. Gomez thought that it would be best to do that gradually than have you jump right into it. So," she said, still smiling, "We're going to use this to take you down to your car and then when you get home you can start using crutches." She said it like it was no big deal, but Dylan was still frowning unhappily.

"Do I have to?" he whined, looking at his dad pleadingly. The man laughed, clapping a hand to Dylan's shoulder. "I'm afraid so, Ace. Don't worry though, your mom is already waiting outside with the car and as soon as we get home you won't have to use this thing anymore." Dylan continued to frown but nodded, sighing in defeat. "Fine. As long as I get to get out of this place, I'll do anything." Seeing the smirks Dr. Gomez and the nurse were giving him, he quickly added, "No offense, of course."

"None taken," the doctor said. He turned a page on his clipboard and looked at something, nodding. "Okay Michael, it looks like you've already signed all of Dylan's release forms, so once we get him in the wheelchair he's free to go." The nurse quickly unhooked Dylan from the machines and IVs he was hooked up to and, with a little bit of help from his father, the boy was lowered into the wheelchair.

"Now remember, there is a very good chance that your memories will come back, but it could take months for you to recover completely. Just be patient, and hopefully with time everything will come back to you. There might also be things that will trigger memories, so I would advise that you try to live your lives as normally as possible. Other than that, everything is really just a waiting game. You'll have to come back in about six weeks to get that cast off, but that's really the only other thing I can do for you right now. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to call the hospital. I wish you well, Dylan," Dr. Gomez said.

Mr. Revenal nodded and shook hands with the doctor. "Thanks for everything, doc. Now if you'll excuse us, I'm sure Dylan really wants to get home." He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and began to push his son toward the elevator, smiling his thanks as the doctor pushed the button before stepping inside.

* * *

Mrs. Revenal was waiting right outside the hospital in a little navy blue car. The second she saw the two come out of the doors she was out of the car and walking towards them, a wide smile on her face. "Hi sweetie! Are you ready to go home?" she asked excitedly. Dylan returned her smile and nodded. Although he wouldn't admit it, he was secretly hoping that when he saw their house it would jog something in his memory. It was a long shot, but hope was hope, and he was going to cling to it until things went back to normal.

His mother helped him into the backseat of the car while his father folded the wheelchair and put it in the trunk. Dylan looked around the inside of the car, frowning. There was something about the interior that bothered him, but he couldn't quite place it. Was this what it was like to remember something? He looked around, but he whatever his brain was trying to tell him was in the back of his mind, and he couldn't quite figure it out. Dylan leaned back in the seat, frowning. It wasn't much, but this had to be a start, right?

The drive was quiet, spent in an anticipating silence. They had told Dylan that they lived about twenty five miles outside of the city of L.A., in a small, private neighborhood. He would absolutely love it, they assured him, and things would feel a lot more normal once he was home.

When they finally turned the corner into the neighborhood the sun was just beginning to set. They drove past a bunch of brick houses with well kept lawns and cars parked in front, finally stopping in front of a two story house at the end of the street. It wasn't anything special as far as Dylan could see; just a normal brick house, like all the other houses around them. He waited for something to click, some memory to come back to him, but there was nothing. The disappointment was crushing and he felt his heart fall a little bit, but before he could say anything his parents turned around in their seats, smiling back at him.

"Welcome home, Dylan."

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**I hope you all realize that I am absolutely **_**loving **_**how much I'm confusing you. No really, it's a lot of fun. :) Obviously Road to Nowhere is still giving me trouble but I'm making some changes to my outline that are making me incredibly happy, so hopefully I'll have that updated soon. Oh, and this story isn't planned at all, by the way. I'm not sure if I've mentioned that, but this is almost all impromptu, so if it runs away with me, well, I never had a clear path from the start. :) Oh, and I'll be referring to the mystery boy as Dylan until his true identity is revealed. :) Oh, **_**and **_**I'm really sorry for how late this is but life has been insane and I'm hoping that I'll be able to start updating more regularly pretty soon. And I know this is pretty short and stupid, but the next chapter should be better. Okay, that's all. Love you guys!**


	4. Pool

**This update is long overdue and I'm so sorry. I finally caught up on all my reviewing and I'm not going to check for any alerts until after I finish this chapter because seriously it's been two weeks. I'm sick today, which is actually probably a good thing because now I can write a bit, and I should be able to do a lot more writing from now on because –fingers crossed- I think my schedule is clearing up a bit. YAY. Thanks for the wonderful response on the last chapter, and I hope you like this one!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

To say that the house was nice would have been an insult. It was _stunning. _Standing in the front door, Dylan found himself struggling to take everything in. Directly in front of him was a spacious living room, with a brown leather couch and a long coffee table in front of it, a gigantic plasma screen TV, and a stone fireplace. Off to the side there was an entryway that led to what appeared to be a kitchen, and through that Dylan thought he saw a large dining room. From where he was standing, there was a long hallway directly to his right and a grand staircase to his left. He couldn't even see the whole house and he was already overwhelmed. Dylan couldn't remember the place at all, but from what he'd seen in his first few seconds, he had the feeling he was going to like it.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he looked up to see his mom and dad standing right behind him, cautious smiles on their faces. "So?" Mrs. Revenal asked, a tiny bit of excitement seeping into her voice. Dylan took a step inside, stumbling a bit as he tried to maneuver his crutches. He heard his parents step inside behind him and close the door before walking in front of him, watching him attentively. "We can't read your mind, Ace," his father teased. His tone was light, but it was easy to see that both of them were waiting eagerly for a response.

But the only thing he can manage to say was, "Wow." Apparently it was enough, though, and his parents laughed and immediately looked more at ease. "Here, let's get you to your room and settled in. The doctor said that you needed to rest and take it easy for a while so that you could get better, and we want you to heal as fast as you can." There was something weird about the way Mrs. Revenal said it, but Dylan put it off as worry and relief and everything else the woman must have been feeling. It had been incredibly frustrating for him not to remember things, but his parents had to deal with the fact that their son, who they'd raised and done everything for for his entire life, couldn't remember anything about them. That had to hurt, so whenever they acted strange around him he understood. When things got back to normal everything would be fine, he was sure of it.

His parents led him down the hallway on the right, passing three or four rooms before they had to take another right turn at the end. There were two doors, one leading to a bathroom and the other to what he could only assume was his room. His mom opened the door and quickly stepped back, giving Dylan room to pass.

There wasn't anything special about the room. A bed, a desk, a tiny bookshelf, a large stack of CDs, DVDs, and video games, along with a smaller television and a new looking game system. There was a walk in closet in the corner, and next to the bed was a huge window that gave Dylan a perfect view of the backyard and- "Wait, we have a pool?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead hobbling across the room and pressing his face against the window in excitement. "We sure do, Ace, and as soon as you get better you'll be able to use it as much as you want," Mr. Revenal chuckled before gently leading Dylan away from the window and towards the bed. "Now, why don't you lay down and watch some TV for a little while? We can put in the new Harry Potter movie since you haven't seen it since it was out in theaters, and then if you need anything we'll be just around the corner in the living room. Sound good?"

Dylan nodded once, and as soon his parents had finished setting up the DVD and making sure he was comfortable, he found himself alone. The movie started playing and he watched the characters carefully, trying to see if he could remember ever having seen it before. It tickled something in his memory and seemed familiar, but he couldn't be quite sure. Still, it was definitely something.

The movie passed in relative peace, and by the time it ended the sun was beginning to set. Dylan turned his head on the pillow and looked out the window, staring at the pool. Different shades of orange, yellow, and purple reflected off the water, and the soft colors relaxed him. He felt his eyelids becoming heavier, and as hard as he tried to stay awake it was only a matter of minutes before he finally nodded off. The last thing he saw was the pool, and then he finally let sleep pull him under.

_Wherever he was, it was bright and it was _loud. _And there was a pool. That little detail should have been irrelevant, especially since he had a pool in his own backyard, but this one was different. This one was crowded with people, mostly kids around his own age, and there was a huge, hotel-like building in the background. A group of three girls were sitting off to the side sipping smoothies, a young brunette girl and a red-headed boy throwing a Frisbee, an insane looking guy holding a chainsaw, and a large, annoyed looking man yelling at a group of kids. _

_Dylan glanced up as two guys ran past him, one yelling and covered in a mysterious purple substance and the other screaming as if he feared for his life and yelling back, "I'm sorry!" Someone laughed next to him, and he turned to see another boy sitting on a lounge chair, watching the scene in amusement. "I'm debating on whether or not I should interfere with this one. What do you think?" For a second Dylan thought the other boy had been talking to himself, but then he turned and looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised._

_Dylan wanted to ask why he was talking to him, or who he even was, but what came out of his mouth was completely different. "We'd probably be better off staying out of this one for now." The other boy laughed and nodded, rolling to his eyes as one of the boys caught up to the other and tackled him into the pool. The three girls gasped as water flew out of the pool and got them wet, but no one else even looked up. Apparently this was pretty normal behavior._

_Dylan turned back to the boy that was sitting next to him, getting ready to ask what was going on, but a shout from the building interrupted him. "Boys! Dinner's ready! Come inside before it gets cold!" Instantly the two boys in the pool scrambled out and ran for the doors, not even bothering to towel off. The boy sitting next to Dylan stood up and held out a hand to help him up. "Come on, we'd better go before those two eat all the food. It is Fish Stick Friday, after all." _

_Fish Stick Friday. The name sent off a little flare of recognition, and Dylan immediately tried to grab hold of the memory. His body moved on its own, taking the other boy's hand and allowing himself to be pulled up. The two began to walk towards the door, and they were about to walk inside when there was another shout. "Sweetie? Do you just want me to bring your dinner to you?" _

_The other boy disappeared through the door but Dylan was stuck in place, unable to move. "Hey, wait!" he called out, finally in control of his voice, but the other boy didn't turn around. In fact, the area he'd just gone through was beginning to fade, blackening until there was almost nothing there. Dylan spun around as the voice called out again, this time from somewhere above him. "Dylan? Wake up sweetheart, it's time for dinner."_

_Dylan spun around wildly, looking for the source of the voice. He was surprised to find that the pool area was now empty, and he was completely alone. What the… "Dylan? Baby, wake up." As the voice spoke again the scene in front of him began to fade, and soon there was nothing else, and he was falling…_

"Dylan?" The boy gasped awake on the bed he was laying on, his snapping open as he looked wildly around the room. A dream. It had all been a dream. "Dylan?" He turned his head to the side and saw his mother standing over his bed, looking down in concern. "Sweetie, are you ready for dinner? I'm sorry if I woke you, you can go back to sleep if you'd like…"

Dylan sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, blinking sleepily. "No, m'fine," he mumbled, stretching before grabbing his crutches and standing up. Mrs. Revenal smiled, and as soon as he was standing she led him out of the room and towards the dining room. His dad was already sitting there waiting for them, and soon they were all eating.

"That was some dream you must have been having," Mrs. Revenal chuckled. Dylan frowned and looked over at her curiously, putting down his fork. "What do you mean?" Mrs. Revenal chuckled before explaining. "I haven't seen you that restless in years. You were tossing around so much I was afraid you were going to fall off your bed."

"Oh." His parents were looking at him, and it took him a moment to realize they were waiting for him to explain whatever he'd been dreaming about. "There wasn't anything special about it, just a pool and some other kids. Maybe some of my memories are coming back? I mean, where do I usually hang out with my friends?"

Something in the room changed. The atmosphere suddenly felt thicker, the chairs seemed harder, and Mr. and Mrs. Revenal tensed at his words so much that he was afraid he'd said the wrong thing, even though he'd thought it was a pretty innocent question. "What?" His parents exchanged silent looks, and there was a pause before either of them answered.

"Dylan, you don't… Before the accident, you spent almost all of your time here. We've had to home school you since you were twelve because there were some… issues with the kids at your school. You, uh… Well, you don't exactly socialize with most of the kids in the neighborhood now and…" His mom trailed off, looking uncertain of what to say next.

Dylan could only stare at her. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Had he- _Was _he really the kind of person that didn't have any friends? His parents were watching him apprehensively, obviously fearing his reaction. He managed to paste a weak smile on his face. "Well I guess it was just a weird dream, then. Will you pass me a roll, Dad?" he asked, desperate to change the subject. As much as he wanted to remember things, he wasn't sure he was ready to hear about what a loser he'd been at the moment. That would be something to deal with later, once he'd adjusted to being home again.

His parents looked relieved that he was letting the subject drop. "Sure thing, Ace. Hey, do you want to come with me to pick up Henry from the kenne tomorrowl? I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Dylan blinked at him. "Henry?" he repeated. His dad smiled and nodded, pointing at a bowl in the corner of the room with the name _HENRY _on it. "You're dog, Ace. Remember?"

No, he _didn't _remember. _Anything. _But instead of complaining and exploding like he wanted to, Dylan just smiled and nodded. "Cool." His parents grinned back at them, and there was so much genuine happiness in their eyes that Dylan wasn't even sure what to say. Fortunately his mother took care of it for him. "You still look pretty tired, sweetie. Why don't you go lay down while your father and I clean the dishes?" Dylan nodded and got to his feet, balancing himself on his crutches. "Good night," he called over his shoulder as he started hobbling towards his room.

His room was completely dark when he reached it, and he had to fumble around for the light switch for a few minutes. When he could finally see, he looked around the room, searching for something to do. He really wasn't all that tired, but he didn't have the desire to be around anyone else at the moment. Finally he just settled on watching some TV and flopped onto his bed, grabbing the remote and switching the input from DVD to cable.

But instead of changing into some random show, the screen turned a static gray. Dylan frowned and tried changing the channel. Same thing. He briefly thought about calling his dad in to tell him that the TV was broken, but thought better of it. His parents had done enough for him for one day, and besides, it wasn't like it was a life or death situation. He could live without cartoons for another night or two.

He settled back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about his dream. His parents had sounded sincere when they told him that it couldn't have been something that had happened to him before, but there was just something about it that seemed _so _familiar… But what could it possibly be?

This was the question he fell asleep too, but this time when he finally dropped off, there were no dreams.

* * *

**Let's just say, I hope you paid attention during this chapter because it was incredibly important. Anyway, I still need to redo my outline for Road to Nowhere and hopefully I'll get that done by this weekend so I can start updating that again. Oh, and I also got a tumblr and I'm able to use that a lot more than I'm able to write so you should check that out. The link is on my profile page. :) Again, sorry for the long wait! I love you all!**


	5. Missing

**Oh hi there.**

**No that is not all I have to say. Guys, I am so impossibly sorry that I haven't updated in so long. The last month or so really just killed me, and I was so stressed and I had no time to write and asldfjasldfkjslkaj I'm so sorry I tried so hard. I'm on summer vacation now, so that should mean that I can update this more, but I've put Road to Nowhere on hiatus because I have the worst writer's block _ever _on that and I started a Supernatural/Big Time Rush crossover because I have no self control and asldfjasldfjk. I really shouldn't do this to myself.**

**In other news, I hate the FF system. If I had messages from any of you in my inbox that I hadn't responded to before they changed it, you probably won't get a response to it because I tried and it is a _pain _and I wish they hadn't changed it. It was perfect before. **

**But anyway, you don't need to hear me talk anymore. If you're still reading this, I am really so, so sorry for not updating until now, and I hope you can forgive me and still review. I love you all. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush or anything affiliated.**

* * *

Two weeks. Two weeks since their best friend had gone missing. Two weeks since everything had come crumbling down around them. Two weeks since everything had stopped making sense, and time had seemed to freeze around them, and everything that they'd considered to be normal had disappeared. Everything they'd taken for granted before, gone. Sleep, food, laughter, conversation, peace; all of it, gone. It had gone missing at the same time _he _had.

That night was one they couldn't forget, no matter how hard they tried. They could each remember being annoyed at first; he'd been late to rehearsals earlier in the week, and one would have thought that he would have made sure to be on time now, but _no. _Apparently he had better things to do with his time, or he had forgotten, or _something_. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him late for rehearsal again, something that made Gustavo incredibly angry. And an angry Gustavo led to an angry band. Because really, what could he possibly be doing that would leave him unable to pick up a phone and at least call to let them know he was running late?

They had tried calling him enough times; Lord knows they tried. But each time they tried to reach him, they got the same thing: _"Hi, I can't come to the phone right now, but just leave a message after the beep!"_ They didn't get a response by texting him, either. At one point they even tried to email him, just in the off chance that that would get through to him, but if they had really been expecting something they were left sorely disappointed; he never once responded to any of the many messages they sent him.

In reality, it didn't affect them _that _much. They all recorded their parts individually, so it wasn't like they had to wait for him to start. But it made them all look bad, and that wasn't a good thing in the music industry; it was especially bad when the three of them had finished with their work and he _still _hadn't arrived. They tried calling him again, trying to keep their tempers in check. Maybe the rain had just messed with their signal and he hadn't gotten any of their calls. Or maybe the rain had been too dangerous to drive in and Mrs. Knight had made him stay home. Or maybe he had gotten sick and had been so out of it that he forgot to call. Or maybe-

They ran out of good excuses pretty fast.

But they weren't stupid. They certainly weren't bad friends, either. There had to be some reason he wasn't there, whether or not Gustavo, Kelly, and the other producers believed them or not. They still had faith. And apparently Gustavo was willing to take some lead from them, because when they asked if they could start driving back to the Palm Woods to see if he was there or on his way, the man agreed.

The rain had stopped about an hour ago, but the roads were still slick and they made sure to drive carefully. They'd made it about ten miles when they saw flashing lights ahead of them; red and blue, red and blue. There was no siren, but they recognized the lights and the vehicles they were coming from. Police; an ambulance. The three of them exchanged glances of pity. Someone had gotten hurt driving in the rain. Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't shown up.

That was where the peace had ended.

Car accidents make people slow down naturally; it was purely human curiosity, and the boys were no exception to it. There were a few policemen walking around about thirty feet off the road, next to the woods. A car was resting against one of the trees, one side of it crushed and looking as though it was trying to curl around the trunk. It took the boys seven seconds to realize that the car looked oddly familiar to them; another five seconds the figure out exactly who's it was; one second before they had leapt out of the car and were tearing towards the car, ignoring the shouts from the officers as they skidded to a halt a few feet away from the car.

The police had grabbed one of their arms, demanded to know what they thought they were doing, to which they had promptly yelled back that, _"THIS IS OUR FRIEND'S CAR, NOW TELL US WHAT HAPPENED." _

The police didn't know. Someone had been driving down the road and found the car and called them. They'd waited until the officers arrived, answered their questions and given them a number to reach them at, and then left. There had been no one in the car when they'd arrived; it was empty. The entire area was empty, and it looked as though it had been that way for a few hours.

The police tried to question _them _after that. As if they somehow knew what had happened; as if they had any idea where their friend was, or if he was okay. They answered what was asked of them as best they could, but really they were barely paying attention. Everything was happening in a daze; it was as though their brains had stopped processing everything and simply shut down.

Except they were still functioning well enough to take in the scene around them. It made no sense, none at all, but they could still physically see everything.

The cracked glass on the driver's window.

The twisted metal all around the car.

The blood; so, so much blood; too much blood.

On the window.

On the seat.

On the leaves.

_Everywhere._

But not everywhere. It had ended abruptly a few feet from the car. There was no way to tell if someone else had been there; when the car had spun off the road, it had crushed all the leaves and twigs and whatever else could have left a telltale path, so if anything or anyone had come anywhere near there, there was no evidence of it.

And their friend was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he had been able to escape the car and had tried walking down the road to find help. That was one of the policemen's optimistic suggestions. Perhaps after he had crashed, he'd been able to get up and walk away and had tried to start walking towards help.

But that was stretching it; there was so much blood. If there friend had gotten out of that car, he wouldn't have made it far before his injuries incapacitated him. And if he'd been well enough to get out of the car, why hadn't he thought to pick up his cell phone and call for help? It didn't make sense; _nothing _about the entire situation made sense and the boys weren't sure what to do. Judging by the polices' lack of action, neither did they.

There was another possibility, though. It was one that the officers saved until Gustavo, Kelly, and Mrs. Knight had arrived on the scene. They had to keep the boys from hearing it, but they had put up a fight just as they always had, and no one really had it in them to fight the three at the moment.

There were dozens of possibilities, the police had said. There was really no way of knowing exactly what had happened without a witness. But the lack of a body- the boys had cringed at that term- was concerning a lot of questions to be answered. There was a very real possibility that it had been a hit and run of some sort, and the driver of the other vehicle had stopped and taken the body- another cringe- to hide the evidence.

That was one of the worst case scenarios, but it was also made a lot of sense; too much sense. The police assured them that they would go over every angle of the scene, look for anything they could to find out what had really happened. The youngest officer on the scene had looked very determined, and when he promised that he would personally make sure that they found out the truth, he had been sincere. They _would _know the truth, no matter what it took.

That had been two weeks ago. Two weeks since the world had felt like it was starting to end. Two weeks since they had lost the most important person in their lives, and they still had yet to find him. Two weeks since they had been forced to start questioning if their brother was alive or not, and if he was, what was happening to him?

The chances of finding him grew slimmer with every passing day, and hope began to dwindle. They held on as tightly as they could; clung to it, even. It was their lifeline at this point, and it would be until they got their friend back. But as more and more time passed, things began to look more and more grim.

The officer kept them updated, but there really wasn't much to tell. There wasn't much evidence to go off of. Since it had happened in the middle of nowhere, where there were no security cameras or people living, they had to go on what was there, and the rain had messed up a lot of it. The officer still promised them that he would discover the truth and make sure that they knew what had happened to their friend.

But the way things were looking, would they really want to know what had happened when everything was said and done?

* * *

**Oh look a short chapter. How wonderful. -shot- But being the kind of writer I am, of course I had to give you a little insight on what's happening with the others, instead of just focusing on "Dylan." Again, I am forever sorry for making you wait this long. I love you all so much and I wish I could do better. Review?**


	6. Visitation

**This is going to be a long AN, as well as a bipolar one, so fair warning.**

**So I can't take any more sappiness right now lol. All I can say is that it's great to be back. If you want a more in depth explanation, it's on my profile page.**

**On another note, I am aware that there are a few people whom I believe I revealed Dylan's true identity to whilst I was having my little mental breakdown, so I'm begging you now: please please please please please please please **_**please **_**do not tell anyone. I'd really rather not spoil anything for anyone else. Thank you. :)**

**And to all of those who went ahead and reviewed anyway, just to let me know that you would still stick by me even after all the self-inflicted drama I've caused, thank you. Words can't describe how much that means to me. **

**And now, before I let you go onto this new chapter, I have a bone to pick with someone. What I'm about to say is something that I say with passion, and while I want you all to know that this is directed at some very specific people, I hope that it's something you can all take to heart and try to understand if you don't already.**

**I have already given you all my coming back speech and told you all how sorry I am for having been so hectic and careless in my decisions, and if you haven't seen it then you can find it on my profile page. But there's something more important that I feel I need to address. **

**I've been gone from the fandom for a long time, but when I said I thought I had left it in good hands, I meant it. However, I became out of touch with many aspects of it, and only recently have I found myself coming back around. There are so many of you that I am so proud of, more than I can even tell you. But some things are just not okay, and while I'm not going to name any names, I'm want to get this in the open right now.**

**How **_**dare **_**any of you call someone a liar when you don't have all the details. How **_**dare **_**you say that something really deep and really personal that someone is going through is stupid, and probably being dramatized for their personal gain. And how **_**dare **_**you tell someone that what they're fighting for isn't worth it, without even having the courage to say it from anything but an anonymous review.**

**This does not apply to some of you, and I'm praying to god that I'm not talking to anyone that I know, because I am **_**sickened. **_**And if I come across as upset right now, it's because I am.**

**If someone says they're going through a hard time, or they know someone who is going through a hard time, the only thing you can do is support them. It is not your place to put them down, and if you have any problems with that, leave your comments at the door. I know that you're better than that, guys, and it's so disappointing to see some people making the decisions that they are. And again, I cannot stress enough that I am only talking to a handful of people who might not even be reading this right now, but I need to know that everyone understands what I'm saying.**

**Just think about it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush.**

* * *

In the weeks followed, Dylan found himself struggling to adjust back into the life his parents claimed that he had once lived.

It wasn't really his parents that were the problem; if anything, they made it a little more bearable. Mrs. Revenal, as he soon discovered- or was it rediscovered?- loved to cook. It was a mystery how she did it; he would go outside and sit on the porch with Henry, and when he would come back in an hour later the entire kitchen would be filled with food. And it wasn't just simple, microwave dishes, either; everything was intricate and looked as though it had been made by a master chef, and Mrs. Revenal made sure that he was never even the slightest bit hungry.

Mr. Revenal had gone back to work a few days after Dylan had been released from the hospital, but from the minute he got home to the minute they forced him to go to bed. It was just little things, like showing him all the tricks Henry could do and watching the occasional football game, but Dylan could see how hard both of his parents were trying to making him as comfortable as hospital. Still, there was only so much they could do. He was still a teenage boy, and it wasn't long before he started to develop cabin fever. So when he was able to get his cast off a few weeks earlier than his doctor had originally estimated, it was like a gift sent from heaven.

His leg had healed a lot during the two weeks he was unconscious, and according the Dr. Gomez, everything had healed beautifully. The man was currently looking over some of Dylan's medical charts, nodding in approval. "Well, young man, you are incredibly lucky. You will, of course, need to continue with your physical therapy for a little while longer in order to build up the muscles in your leg again, but all things considered, you should be able to live normally again."

Mr. Revenal clapped a hand on his shoulder, smiling broadly. "You hear that, Ace? You'll finally be able to put some use to the pool! And I'm sure Henry will be more than willing to join you." Mrs. Revenal smiled as well, but gave her husband a stern look. "But of course he won't push himself too hard yet. We wouldn't want him to end up right back here so soon, would we?" The two stared at each other, seeming to have a conversation with their eyes, but Dylan wasn't quite able to figure out what they were saying. Finally, Mr. Revenal nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving his wife's. "Of course."

There was a moment of silence before Dr. Gomez cleared his throat. "Dylan," he said calmly, "Why don't you get ready to go? I'd like to talk to your parents for a moment." Dylan blinked at him. "Is there something wrong?" It felt as though there was something flying right over his head, but he couldn't be sure if there was actually something there or his paranoia was just taking over. Whatever is was, Dr. Gomez didn't acknowledge it, shaking his head. "Of course not, son. You're as healthy as a horse. I just want to make sure that your mom and dad are clear about the steps you all need to take to ensure that the rest of your recovery goes as smoothly as it has been." Dylan nodded, ignoring the odd feeling that had settled into his stomach and watching as the three adults filed out the door, closing it behind them.

As soon as he was alone, Dylan ran to the door, looking out the little window and searching for them. The must have moved off to the side, though, because there was no sign of them anymore. Dylan frowned slightly. He was just being foolish, and he knew that there was no call for being suspicious. The doctor had done nothing but help him, and to date no one had given him any real indication that something was wrong. Still, there was something that just seemed… off.

Whatever it was would have to wait, however, because just as suddenly as they had left, his parents and Dr. Gomez were coming back into the room. "So I can assume we're all on the same page?" the doctor asked, giving the eldest Revenals what appeared to Dylan to be a very pointed look. He wasn't sure what they had talked about in the hall, but whatever it was had left his parents with very sober expressions.

But when they turned to look at him, their eyes brightened instantly. "You ready to hit the road, Ace?" At his nod, Mr. and Mrs. Revenal led him into the hallway towards the elevators. As they were waiting for the doors to close, Dylan caught one last look of Dr. Gomez standing at the end of the hallway where they'd left him. He was staring after them with a look on his face that almost made him appear to be troubled, but with a disquieting edge to it. Before Dylan could take a closer look, the elevator doors slid shut, and all he could see was his own reflection staring back at him.

* * *

The next few days passed in relative peace, and Dylan found himself enjoying the comfort of his home. Under his mother's watchful eye, he began to spend his days in their spacious backyard. Often he would be out in the pool for hours, and if he wasn't there he was exploring with Henry or playing fetch with the dog. However, just as it had been when he was first recovering, the slight freedom he'd been given soon began to lose its appeal, and he found himself longing to venture away from the house.

For a little while, he tried to convince himself that it would be wrong of him to sneak off, and his parents would probably be incredibly upset with him. He wasn't exactly sure why they seemed so adamant about him always being in sight, and though he knew there was probably a good reason for it, it was growing annoying very quickly. That was why, when his mother was busy in the kitchen and his father was still at work, Dylan found himself leaving their driveway for the first time since he'd gotten back from the hospital.

It was a mystery to him, why he'd been kept away from the rest of the neighborhood for so long. They lived on a relatively small cul-de-sac, and although he'd only driven through it a few times, from what he'd seen the whole neighborhood only consisted of about twenty or so houses. He set out towards the end of the street, smiling as Henry tugged at his leash, and he'd only just gotten to the turn when he heard screaming from behind him.

"_Dylan!"_

He recognized the voice as his mother's instantly, and he spun around. She was running down the sidewalk towards him, a frantic, almost desperate look in her eyes, and within moments she was skidding to a halt next to him.

Dylan stared at her for a minute, unsure of what how to react. "Mom, I…" Mrs. Revenal was breathing heavy from her mad dash to get to him, and she looked like she was ready to collapse. "What are you doing?" To his surprise, her voice wasn't angry, or even the tiniest bit annoyed with him, it was… scared. She was staring at him as though he was on the verge of dying, and that confused him more than anything she'd done up to that point.

Before he could respond, she'd grabbed him gently by the arm and taken Henry's leash from his hands. "Never mind, we'll talk when we get back to the house. Come on, dear." And Dylan was so stunned by her reaction that he allowed himself to be led back home without saying a word.

Just as they reached the front door, Mr. Revenal's car pulled into the driveway. In an instant he was out and by their side, the keys still in ignition. "Is everything alright?" He looked between the two, taking in his wife's frantic appearance and Dylan's obvious confusion. "What happened?"

Dylan looked at him with wide eyes and surprised himself by finding his voice. "I didn't mean to… I just, I haven't been outside the house except for hospital visits and…" He trailed off, still looking as alarmed as before. "And you just needed to get away for a little while," Mr. Revenal finished quietly. Dylan swallowed and nodded jerkily. "I'm really sorry."

Mr. Revenal tore his eyes away from his wife and raised his eyebrows, smiling gently. "Sorry? Dylan, there's not much to be sorry for. It's true that it would have been better if you'd asked us to leave first, but you've been cooped up around the house for over a month. We knew that you'd want to get out sooner or later. That's just how you've always been; you're a free spirit, and that's something that will never change about you."

He sighed. "But you have to understand something, son. The last time you walked away like that, we nearly lost you. Your mother and I… Well, you're all we've got. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ace? We can't take the risk of losing you again. We need to know where you are at all times."

Dylan nodded, looking back and forth between the two. "I… I'm sorry. I just, I needed to get out, and-"

Mr. Revenal put a hand up to stop him. "We understand, son. You just have to understand where _we're _coming from." He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. When he finally spoke again, he appeared to be choosing his words carefully, as though he were treading on thin ice. "I'll tell you what. Tomorrow your mother and I will take you to the mall, so that you can get out a little bit _if_ you promise to stay with us. We're not going to put you on a leash, but you'll have to stay in the same stores as us, alright?"

Mrs. Revenal's head snapped up, looking at her husband with wide eyes, but when Dylan turned to her she nodded slowly. "That sounds like a good plan. What do you say, dear?"

Dylan looked between the two of them, and eventually he felt a grin beginning to form on his face. "Yeah," he agreed, "that sounds perfect."

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**So not very much happened in this chapter, except for a few more reasons to be suspicious lol. But next chapter is going to be a party, so get ready. And I know I've already said this, but I really mean it.**

**It's good to be back.**


	7. Chance Encounter

**New chapter whooo! So this might have been up way earlier than this but I had a fairly lengthy oneshot that took hold of me and I felt compelled to focus all my attention on that. But now I'm here again, and I'm going to try my hardest to update as regularly as I can. And I also realize that in the long period that I didn't write my writing might have regressed, but oh well lol. I'll just have to keep working at it, huh? :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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For a boy who had been craving contact with the outside world for the last month, Dylan found himself oddly unimpressed with the mall his parents took him too.

He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this. There were plenty of people, sure, but it hadn't been the quantity he'd been looking for, it had been the _quality. _He needed to people his own age, not moms pushing strollers and elderly couples who moved in groups oh so slowly. His parents seemed to think it was perfect, though, and Dylan decided that he would just have to take it a step at a time. He just had to let them build up a little more trust and security and hope that someday they would give him a little more room.

Today was not that day though, and they'd only been at the mall for half an hour when he found himself growing bored. He wanted to _do _something. Not eat at the food court, not shop for clothes that were way too old for him, but… Well, he wasn't entirely sure. But anything would have been better than what he was doing now. It was a weird feeling; he'd felt it at home before, but it was as though the change of scenery had brought his wild side out of hibernation. He felt the need to run and jump and _live _a little, and he wasn't getting that out of this mall.

He made it up until the sports equipment store before his restlessness got the better of him. His father was in the dressing room trying on some golfing shirts, and Dylan and his mother were in line, waiting to purchase a new basketball. For whatever reason, Dylan had found himself drawn to the hockey section in the store, and he felt an odd sensation in his stomach when he picked up one of the hockey sticks and held it in his hands. But when he'd asked his parents if he could buy it, he'd been met with a very adamant _no. _He could have anything else, they said, but hockey was just too dangerous. He was still in somewhat in recovery, and the sport was just a little too intense for him at the moment. In the end he'd settled for a basketball, but he couldn't help but wonder which of them would have _really _been hurt by the hockey. For some reason, he didn't think it was him.

But all parental issues aside, Dylan was still bored. The line was surprisingly long and slow, and the added fact that there was only one cashier working left no question about whether or not it would be a little while longer before they reached the checkout. Dylan had been building up the courage since the moment they stepped in line, and he decided that now was as good a time as any to make his move. "Hey Mom, my feet are starting to hurt a little. Do you think it'd be alright if I went and sat down somewhere? I saw a little bench right outside the door, I could just wait for you there."

It was a pretty low move, playing the exhaustion card when his parents were clearly still so worried about his health. It was devious, in its own way, and Dylan had no idea where this side of him had come from. It seemed to do the trick, however, and after a minute of looking around the store in hope of finding somewhere for him to sit, his mother finally nodded slowly. Very, very slowly. "I… suppose that would be alright. Just make sure that you go right to that bench and stay there until we come to get you, okay?" Dylan found himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes, another strange feeling that he wasn't sure where it had come from. "Yeah Mom, I'll just be right outside." With a small smile he turned, leaving her to stand in line, and exited the store.

The bench was a little farther away than he'd anticipated, but it was only about twenty feet from the store so he decided it was safe. There was a dark haired boy, head ducked as he talked on a phone, sitting on one side of the bench, so Dylan took a seat on the opposite end. The boy's voice was low and hard, and he seemed to be having a tense conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. However, in spite of the fact that the boy was speaking in hushed tones and Dylan knew that eavesdropping was rude- he'd lost his memory, not his morals- he couldn't help but overhear some of the conversation.

"Yeah, I know what we agreed on." A pause, and then a frustrated sigh. "I know, I just… I needed to get away for a little while. You guys have dealt with this in your own way, and this is mine." Dylan cocked his head to the side, frowning slightly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he recognized the stranger's voice, but he knew that couldn't be right. The utter sorrow in his voice was something Dylan was positive he'd never witnessed. The other boy sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, alright. I'm at the mall, so I'll be home in about half an hour. Alright, see you back at the apartment. Bye."

The boy pocketed his phone and leaned over, putting his head in his hands tiredly and rubbing his eyes. It looked he just wanted the world to stop moving for a few minutes, and for a moment Dylan thought he might never move. Dylan had never seen a person look so hopeless, and even if he hadn't been exposed to much of the world since his release from the hospital, even he knew that no human should have to suffer the way this boy was. He watched as the boy finally lifted his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out in one big _whoosh. _He moved his hands away from his face, and when he did Dylan caught his breath.

He knew that face.

He was a lot more unkempt, and looked like he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a _long _time, but Dylan recognized him. The hair, the eyes, everything. The voice had sounded familiar to him for a reason: this was one of the boys he'd seen in his dream.

Dylan didn't even realize he was staring until the other boy suddenly looked up at him, blinking despondently. "Can I help y-" he started to say, but the moment their eyes met he choked off. His eyes widened more than Dylan thought humanly possible, and for a moment it looked like he was going to fall over. Dylan stared back at him for a few seconds before looking around, just to make sure the boy wasn't gazing at someone else. He wasn't; and in the next moment Dylan found himself in the tightest hug he'd ever been given, all the air crushed from his lungs.

Dylan didn't know what else to do but gently pull himself away, but even as he did that the other boy grabbed his shoulders, holding him at an arm's length. There were tears in his eyes, but the despair that had seemed to have consumed him moments earlier had disappeared. It took Dylan a few seconds to register that he was speaking to him. "-just can't believe this. Do you know how long we've been looking for you? I think the others were starting to lose hope in ever finding you, but-" He laughed then, and it was such a wildly joyful sound that Dylan wasn't entirely sure how to react.

"Just wait until the guys see you again!" Something seemed to register and his eyes widened again. "The guys!" he exclaimed, and he became so flustered and incoherent for a moment that Dylan couldn't understand a word he was saying. He understood completely when the boy grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull him to his feet, though. It was at that point that he decided he'd let this go on long enough, and he carefully extricated his arm. He didn't miss the sudden alarm in the boy's eyes at the loss of contact.

"Look, I'm sorry, I don't…" Dylan struggled to find the right words. He wasn't sure why he trying to be nice to the stranger who had practically just assaulted him, but there was so much pain and familiarity in those eyes that Dylan couldn't bring himself to say anything harsh. By that same token, though, he wasn't about to leave with some random guy. "I think maybe you have me mistaken for someone else." And even though he didn't know this person, the way his face slid back into distress was one of the most painful things Dylan had ever seen.

"But…" The boy almost looked like he was pouting, but the desperation in his tone rang clear. "Don't you recognize me?" Dylan almost wanted to say yes, just to ease this stranger's pain, but he found himself shaking his head. It was like when he'd woken up in the hospital all those weeks ago, except there was something so much worse this time. "I really am sorry, but I think you've got me mixed up with someone else." Remembering the boy's earlier words, he quickly added, "I hope you find your friend." He looked like he'd just been punched in the gut, but as Dylan took a step backward he didn't move. There was shock in his eyes and, more than that, pure _anguish_.

And then, in an instant, he was lost in the crowd. For a minute Dylan was tempted to stick around, just to make sure the guy was alright, but that idea was immediately put to rest when he heard someone call out his name from behind. He turned around slowly, catching sight of his parents in front of the store he'd left them in. Their smiles were tight and he could see their thinly veiled discomfort at the fact that he wasn't at the bench as he'd said he would be, but they were clearly trying to hide it.

He walked over to them quickly, maneuvering himself through the crowd until they were right in front of him. "Hi, sweetie," Mrs. Revenal greeted him. "Do you think you're ready to go home, or would you rather stay a little bit longer?" Dylan didn't hesitate in his answer. "No, I'm ready to go whenever you are." They smiled at him again, genuinely this time, and Mr. Revenal looked at his watch. "Well now's as good a time as any. If we hurry, we might get home in time to catch the Mets game. You still like baseball, right Ace?" Even after weeks of telling his parents that he really wasn't sure if he liked any of his old interests, he still shrugged and nodded.

The three made their way to the exit doors, and Dylan soon tuned his parents out as they chatted behind him. The encounter with that boy had unsettled him more than he cared to admit, and now he couldn't fight the gnawing feeling at the back of his brain. There was just something… off. Too many things just didn't make sense, and the boy had only made things worse. He'd called him something, another name, and it definitely wasn't Dylan. But what had it been? Dylan wracked his brain, trying to recall, and jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked back, seeing his parents looking at him in concern.

"You alright, Ace? We've been calling you for the past few minutes." He blinked at his father, looking between him and his mother before nodding. "Yeah, sorry, I was just… thinking." His parents exchanged looks, just as they seemed to have been doing more and more lately. "Oh, alright," his mother finally said, the strained smile was back again. "So, did you enjoy the mall? Anything interesting happen?"

Dylan's mind flashed back to the boy, the hug, the tears. Oh, something interesting had definitely happened. He snapped back to the present, meeting their eyes. They were clearly waiting for an answer, and so he gave them one. "Nope. It was a pretty uneventful trip, actually." His parents seemed satisfied with his answer and didn't ask him anything more, resuming whatever conversation they'd been having earlier.

He didn't feel like he had lied to them, not really. The trip _had _been uneventful up until that one encounter, and that was just one moment in the whole trip. He was looking for answers, and not only was he sure he wasn't going to get them from his parents, he was also fairly positive that his parents would never let him out of the house again if they heard what had happened. He wasn't going to lie to them exactly; he was just going to withhold the truth for a little while.

Dylan needed some answers, and he was determined to get them.

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**Short and... short lol. But if you only knew who the other boy was you'd probably be as sad as I am right now. Hehe. :) But you'll find out soon enough, so… Just hang on a little bit longer. :) Reviews?**


	8. Suspicion

**Sorry for the long wait! An insane combination of business and laziness pretty much left me incapable of writing anything all week. In other news, the KCA's were spectacular and James nearly falling off the stage was the cutest thing ever. Anway, here's the newest chapter, and I hope you all like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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He called them from the mall, crying so hard that they almost hadn't been able to make out what he was trying to tell them. After a few minutes of listening, they finally managed to catch the words _saw, alive, _and _oh my god. _And then he said a name that none of them had said in months, and the world that they had been so carefully holding together was suddenly crumbling around him. Whatever else he'd been trying to say was lost in a mess of tears. It didn't matter though; he'd gotten their attention, and within half an hour they were sprinting through the parking lot and through entrance, looking wildly for their friend.

They found him in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by shoppers and more noticeably, cops. The scene before them was hard to take in. Between their friend's tormented expression and the morbid looks the onlooker's were giving him, the two could only imagine how chaotic the situation had been before they'd arrived. They pushed through the crowd, yelling his name. His eyes snapped up, and for a moment he looked relieved. Then fresh tears welled in his eyes and he folded his arms around himself, putting his head between his knees, and they were helpless to watch as his shoulders began to shake with sobs.

They finally managed to get through the crowd, but as soon as they did there was a policeman in their path, holding out his hand. "Sorry, boys, but I need you to step back." His tone was authoritative yet kind, but his words only served to remind them of the last time a cop had said those words to them. They'd lost a friend then, and anyone who thought they were going to let that happen again was only kidding themselves. They both opened their mouths to argue, daring the officer to tell them that they couldn't go through, but there was no need. In the next moment their friend had launched himself at them, pulling them into a hug and burying his face in their shoulders.

"I-I…" His words were choked and trembling, and their hearts broke all over again as they realized how incredibly hard he was shaking. "I t-tried to s-stop him," he hiccupped. "H-he didn't even k-know who I w-was." He pushed himself away a little, just enough so that they could see his face clearly. His eyes were red and swollen, and something inside of him looked like it had broken. "I t-tried so _h-hard,_" he gasped out, and suddenly it occurred to them how hard of a time he seemed to be having with his breathing.

They pulled him into a hug again, shushing him and trying to ignore the way their eyes were suddenly burning. "Shhh, it's okay, it'll be okay." There was an unspoken _or not _that none of them wanted to face, but they all knew that it was there. As their friend continued to cry one of them finally looked up at one of the policemen who was standing a few feet away. "What…" He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be asking. Was the boy they held between them suffering from some sort of breakdown? Or had he really seen their friend, who had been missing for nearly six weeks now? "What happened?" he finally asked.

A few of the officers exchanged glances before looking back at the boys. "Maybe it would be best if we waited for your parents to get here." Strike one. "Perhaps you three should come with us to the security office. Your friend there isn't looking so good, and we don't want to cause a scene." Strike two. "We're not even sure if anything happened today, and even if something did there's a good chance that you boys won't be able to do much." Strike three, and they were _out. _

"Tell them what happened." Everyone looked up in surprise as the boy who had been collapsing in on himself only moments ago issued the command. His voice was frighteningly low and steady, leaving no room for argument. A policewoman ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "There's a chance that your friend might have been here today," she said, and there was no need to ask her which friend she was referring to. Their hearts sped up at her words, and something must have shown on their faces because she quickly shook her head. "We've got people going through the footage from the security cameras, but I don't want you boys to get your hopes up. It might not-"

Her radio beeped and she looked at the boys apologetically. "That might be my men with an update on the film," she explained, quickly excusing herself and walking just out of hearing distance. The three watched as she listened carefully to whatever was being said. They couldn't see her face, but her shoulders seemed to tense before slumping. She nodded her head slowly, running her hand through her hair again. They exchanged nervous looks as she hooked her radio back into her belt before pulling one of the other policemen aside. She said something to him, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the boys, before turning back around to finish whatever she'd been saying. The other officer nodded, said a quick _yes ma'am, _and then hurried to the rest of the officers that were wandering around, shouting orders. The woman finally turned around, moving slower than the boys thought was possible.

"Well?" one of them demanded as soon as she was standing in front of them again. "Did you find anything out?" The officer looked between them, and she must have seen the blatant fear in their eyes because she ran her hand through her hair yet again. "Boys…" she began, seeming to search for the right words. Her eyes wandered between them before seeming to land on the boy that had been crying his eyes out minutes earlier. She took a deep breath, looking them in the eyes, and delivered an answer. "He was here."

And then the world stopped.

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If ever there were a time when Dylan was grateful for silence, it was now. His parents had left him to his thoughts for the entire ride home, and when they finally pulled into the driveway the only thing they said to him was to _get some rest, dinner will be ready in half an hour. _They had given each other the look then, the one that screamed _we know something you don't know_ without saying a word. But if they were going to give him time to be left alone then he would take it, absolutely. He wasn't feeling very good anyway, and a little peace and quiet just what he needed. With the promise that he would be out for dinner Dylan left for his room, leaving his parents standing in the kitchen.

Henry was asleep on the bed, but as soon as Dylan opened the door the dog jumped up, wagging his tail playfully. Dylan smiled, grabbing a nearby tennis ball and holding it up for the dog to see. Henry crouched, his tail wagging faster and barking. Dylan paused for a moment, then turned suddenly, tossing the ball out into the hall. In the next second he found himself nearly shoved to the ground as the canine leaped past him to chase after the ball. Laughing, Dylan sat in front of his desk, waiting for Henry's return. But when he didn't come back after a few minutes, Dylan decided that he was probably in the kitchen, begging Mrs. Revenal for food, and turned back to the task at hand.

He had seen that boy at the mall before. He wasn't sure how or when or where, but sometime before the accident he and this boy had known each other. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure of it. At some point in time, they had been friends, and if the boy's reaction at the mall was anything to go off of, they'd been _good _friends. Those tears and that pleading were just too genuine and way, _way _to desperate to be anything but real, and that wasn't the kind of response garnered by someone who was merely an acquaintance. Dylan had had a friend, and the other boy had made it sound like he'd had more than one.

Which made no sense, because according to his parents he had no friends whatsoever. That's what they'd told him the day he got home from the hospital, and that was the story they'd maintained ever since. He was homeschooled _because _of how few friends he had, among other reasons. Friends were an important part of a teen's life, so his parents would only tell him that he was all alone if it was true. They were just keeping his best interests at heart… Right? He felt guilty for doubting them, especially after all that they'd done for him, but something just wasn't adding up. There were just too many factors in the equation that weren't making sense, and his parents were one of them.

He pulled open the laptop that was sitting on his desk. It had been a welcome home gift from his parents, and although he was pretty sure that they'd blocked 90% of the internet, he was grateful now for the access. He pulled open the Google search bar, ready to finally get some answers and… And what? What exactly was he supposed to be searching for? Somehow he got the feeling that typing _what to do when your life isn't making sense _wouldn't bring up the results he was looking for.

He sat at the computer, drumming his fingers against the keypad. On a whim he typed in his own name, but there were no results for Dylan Revenal that matched him. He coughed suddenly, clearing his throat and rubbing his suddenly throbbing head. With a sigh sat back in his chair, letting his shoulders slump as he reached a whole new level of frustration. If only he had caught the boy's name at the mall… He was seriously beginning to wander if he'd made the right choice in walking away without all the answers. But it was too late to do anything about it now, and he wasn't going to get anything from his computer.

He pushed himself out of his chair tiredly, grabbing the new basketball from where he'd tossed it on the bed and twirling it in his hands. He needed to let out some of the steam that was building up inside him, and even though he was still feeling a bit under the weather exercise seemed like a good enough way to do it. He pulled on some basketball shorts and tennis shoes, walking slowly out the door and continuing to spin the ball in his hands.

There was no one in the living room, but he could hear his parents moving around in the kitchen as they worked on dinner. It smelled like Italian, but it wasn't the smell that was drawing Dylan to the kitchen. On one of the shelves by the stove, there was an old, square TV. It didn't get many channels, but Mrs. Revenal liked to have it on while she was cooking because it was nice not to be in complete silence. So when Dylan saw the TV on, with the volume down low, it wasn't surprising.

But when he looked across the counter, he found himself doing a double take. Because it wasn't some random cooking show or one of the overly dramatic reality TV programs on the screen- it was the news. Breaking news, according to the banner. The reporter was saying something that Dylan couldn't quite make out, but in the next moment he'd moved out of the way a little, giving his viewers a look at the scene behind him. Dylan's breath caught in his throat, and if his hand hadn't shot out and leaned against the wall he would have fallen over right there in the hallway. There were police officers, and two new people he didn't recognize, and then…

The boy from the mall.

Dylan stumbled back a few steps, and before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he erupted into a coughing fit, doubling over. His stomach felt like it was about to upend, and even as the TV was suddenly shut off in the kitchen he was running to the bathroom. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, choking as the contents of his stomach were suddenly emptied. He could vaguely hear footsteps rushing toward him, stopping suddenly in the doorway, but he paid them no mind as he focused on not passing out. He felt a hand gently rubbing circles on his back and his mother's voice, soothing him as he finally leaned back, letting his head fall against the bathtub.

He could hear his parents talking in hushed tones, and for the first time he realized just how awful he felt. A hand touched his forehead, feeling for a temperature, and pulled away as it felt the heat radiating off of his skin. "Dylan?" His father's voice cut through the nausea, but Dylan couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. "Dylan, sweetie, we're going to take you to the doctor, okay? Just to make sure that nothing's wrong and so that he can tell us how to make you better," his mother said gently. "Do you think you can make it to the car?"

He took a few deep breaths, allowing his stomach to settle a little before nodding. With the help of his father he found his way to his feet, wavering slightly. An arm guided him carefully to the front door, helping him into the backseat of the car. The car quickly back out of the driveway, and Dylan fought back a groan as the sudden motion sent a wave of pain through his stomach.

This was going to be a long ride.

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**La lala lala. Next chapter is going to be so much fun, you don't even know. And hey, if things go the way I plan them to you should find out the identity of Dylan… for better or for worse. ;) So while I go off to plan the next chapter and prepare for any love/hate I know I'm going to get when I post it… Review? :)**


	9. Unraveling

**So before you get all excited and jump into the chapter, I'll just save you the disappointment now: Dylan's real identity is **_**not **_**revealed in this chapter. I know, I know, I said that I would probably reveal it and I've made you all wait for so long. But, unfortunately, it just didn't work out this chapter. Next one maybe? We'll see. However, I did bust my butt trying to get this finished and ready to post today because otherwise you all would have had to wait for another three days, minimum. See how much I love you guys? And so when you find any mistakes in this chapter from where I didn't get around to editing, you'll know that they're just reminders of my unfathomable love for you. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Dylan wanted to die.

Or at least that was what he told himself every time the car hit a bump or turned a corner. They'd only been driving for five minutes when he finally gave up any thoughts of remaining vertical, letting himself slump over in the seat. The cool leather was probably one of the greatest things he'd ever felt, and his eyes shut without much resistance.

If not for the fear of getting sick again, Dylan might have fallen asleep right there. Whatever he'd caught had left him exhausted. His parents were talking quietly in the front seat, and the gentle hum of the air conditioner lulled was only serving to further lull him to sleep. The darkness pulled harder, and without meaning to he felt his body beginning to relax…

And then Mr. Revenal hit the mother of all speed bumps, and whatever chance of peace there'd been was gone in an instant.

Dylan's eyes snapped open at the sudden movement, blinking furiously as the world spun. It hit him, then, how familiar it felt; the quiet chatter, that half-conscious awareness, the spinning ceiling. Something flashed in his mind, and suddenly he was seeing a car, a tree, and sheets of rain pouring down. And there's something on his hands, soaking his shirt and pooling on the seat underneath him. Something red…

With a gasp, he twisted his body in the seat, allowing his head to hang towards to carpeted floor of the car. His brain was pounding now, and his fever was causing beads of perspiration to form on his forehead. All he could see was red. He closed his eyes again, breathing hard and trying not to dry heave as a sudden wave of nausea hit him. So much red. The hand that wasn't trapped beneath his stomach shot out, gripping to floor mat as he waited for the spinning to stop. The mat was pulled back ever so slightly, and then Dylan saw… more red? Something was different about this red, though. It was a darker color, shaped like… A bloody handprint.

_His _bloody handprint.

Dylan closed his eyes again, taking deep, strained breaths as he tried to calm himself down. When he'd finally managed to get his heart to stop racing, be it ever so slightly, he forced his eyes open and allowed his fingers to curl around the edge of the mat again. He pulled it back slowly, waiting for the handprint that he was certain was his to appear again, but… nothing. He blinked, pulling the mat back a little further, but the results were the same: there was nothing under the mat.

Dylan shook his head, running a shaky hand over his face. Maybe he was more sick than he'd realized. It had looked so real… but perhaps he was hallucinating. That had to be it. Because there was no way that there would ever be blood in his parents' car… right?

* * *

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, if you asked any of the boys, but no one made any move to break the silence.

The last twenty four hours had been a hellish experience, one that had given them more hope than they'd ever dreamed of being able to have again and crushing it in one fell swoop. The cops were looking through the security footage at the mall and the surrounding areas in hopes of gaining a lead on their missing friend, but so far nothing had surfaced. Whoever they were, the two had taken great care to hide their faces and the license's plate on their car. The police had now identified the car as a silver Subaru Impreza and were going through the list of people who owned them that lived in the area, but it still wasn't quite enough.

They were _so close_- closer than they'd been in months, according to the detectives working the case- but it seemed like they were still too far from the end. How much longer would it take? How much longer would they have to live with this agony of not knowing what their friend was going through? Was he hurt? Had he been too scared to acknowledge his friend at the mall, or was something truly wrong with him? There were too many questions, and not nearly enough answers.

And for one boy, it was beginning to be too much.

"I'm going for a drive," he said, standing up from where they'd all been sitting on the couch and moving toward the counter. The minute his fingers touched the keys, the others seemed to find their voices. "Maybe you should stay."

_Please stay._

But he needed an escape, and here, in the apartment, just wasn't going to cut it. The mall had been the one place that he could go away to. It was a fairly small crowd, and no one would ever bother him for sitting in the safe place for more than an hour. Whenever nothing seemed to make sense anymore- and that was more often than not- the mall had been a place where he could go to find solitude and sort through his thoughts.

And now, he didn't even have that.

"I won't go far. I just need to clear my head a little bit. I'll try to be back within the hour." His tone was dead and bordering on stony, but somehow an apology seemed like it would have been redundant. They'd all spent the past month or so apologizing for each of their catastrophic behavior, only to be constantly forgiven. They all knew better to look into the anger and the pain anymore; they had all gone through it, and still were. There was strength in numbers, and also an unspoken understanding.

Without waiting to see how they would respond, the boy left the apartment, desperate to get away from the devastation that had become their lives.

* * *

They were only a few blocks away from the hospital, but the traffic was horrendous, and it didn't look like they'd be getting there anytime soon. To pass the time, Dylan had started to alternate between looking out the window at the sites the city had to offer and closing his eyes, willing himself to feel better. The latter, surprisingly enough, seemed to be working somewhat effectively, and so Dylan found himself turning his head to look out the window again.

And that's when he saw it.

The traffic was just beginning to move, so if he hadn't chosen to look up at that very moment he probably wouldn't have even seen it. That in itself would have bothered him under any other circumstances, but now… It was as though all the breath had been squeezed from his lungs.

It was a small music store, the kind that people would expect to find in an entertainment driven city such as Los Angeles. They'd probably already passed a dozen of them since leaving the house, and all of them were the same: old records hanging from the ceiling, guitars signed by the musicians that had come in over the years, and most noticeably, cardboard cutouts of the hottest artists that the store was selling. In the last few blocks alone, he had seen Justin Bieber, Kelly Clarkson, and L.M.F.A.O. outside the stores and had paid them no mind. This store, though… this one was different.

It was a band, and probably a boy band if the lack of instruments was anything to go by. They were all standing side by side, smiling but somehow managing to not look too eager while doing it. The two boys on the left were, ironically, the ones that caught Dylan's attention. There was something vaguely familiar about them, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe he'd seen them being advertised around town before, or… He shifted his gaze to the right a little, and suddenly another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

It was the boy from the mall. The one that had hugged him and cried for him. The one that Dylan had left standing alone in the middle of a crowd. The one that claimed that he knew Dylan, except not as Dylan; some other name, some other life, but still the same person. The one that was standing right next to Dylan.

Except not really. Because the boy from the mall wasn't standing right outside the car, at least not physically. And yet Dylan was staring at him, only a few feet away. And next to him, Dylan found himself staring at… himself.

And finally the last piece fell into place.

The world seemed to slow for a minute, and even as the car began to pull forward once again Dylan felt as if he wasn't moving. His gaze remained locked on the little music store, unable to tear his eyes away. People continued to move on the street, and he half expected someone to notice how hard he was staring.

But then the world was moving normally again, and within seconds the music store was out of view. It was enough, though, and the damage- could he even call it that?- was done. Shaking his head, he quickly snapped himself of the daze he'd fallen into and slammed his hand against the car door, causing the Revenals to jump and look back. "Dylan, sweetheart, what are you-"

Mr. Revenal swung the car over into the nearest open space, putting it in park immediately and allowing himself to spin around fully in his seat. "Dylan?" There was nothing sinister in his tone, nothing to hint that anything was wrong whatsoever; there was nothing but concern, and it made him feel like he was going to get sick all over again. "Don't call me that," he whispered.

"What was that, sweetheart?" His eyes snapped to Mrs. Revenal, who had the same confused worry in her eyes as her husband. But he wasn't going to buy into that anymore. In fact, he highly doubted that he would ever believe anything they ever said again. "Don't call me that," he repeated, and this time he made sure they heard the edge in his voice.

The two exchanged glances, but unlike the past few weeks, these were the looks of people who were trying to process what was going on. "I'm not sure what you mean, Ace." His eyes flickered between the two adults, and something in his stomach flipped when he opened his mouth to speak again. "That's not my name," he murmured, and as soon as he said it he was sure of it. "My name isn't Dylan."

The looks on their faces were absolutely priceless, and if it had been under any other circumstances he might have laughed. But beneath the shock that his words had brought, he could see it: they knew. Maybe it was something in his eyes, or maybe it was his voice, but in that moment they knew that they'd been found out. And yet even as he stared them in the eyes, allowing his hand to slowly reach for the door handle, they still found it within themselves to push it just a little farther.

"I think that fever is starting to get to you, hon," Mrs. Revenal said, trying her best to look like a concerned mother. "Maybe you should just rest until we get to the doctor." This time he really did laugh, and he almost lost control when he saw how disturbed the sound left them. "No," he choked out, trying to push himself as far away from the two as he possibly could. "No."

He watches as their eyes moved back to each other, the beginnings of a frown touching their lips. "Dylan…" For the first time he realized how hard his heart was pounding, and he sucked in a few shaky breaths. "I told you not to call me that. My name isn't Dylan." Mr. Revenal sighed, shaking his head and trying to look as though he was merely playing along, even though they all knew he wasn't. "Then tell us, son: what do you think your name is?"

There was a long pause, and in that time memories- and he was sure now that that was what they were- flashed through his head. He saw himself with the other three boys; running, laughing, dancing, singing. There were good times, there were bad times. But there was one thing consistent in all of them, and that was his friends. And they were calling him something, the same thing that the boy at the mall had called him… And when it finally hit him, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. As his hand finally locked around the door handle, he gave Mr. Revenal his answer.

"My name is Logan."

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**Hahaa. I lied. :) But if I'm honest, I went off of the outline a little to reveal the identity faster. And if I'd told you that this chapter held the Big Reveal, how many of you would have skipped to the end just to see who it was, without reading the chapter?**

… **That's what I thought. ;) So I'm sure that some of you are really excited and some of you really hate me right now. Haha. Oops. **

**Reviews?**


	10. Culmination

**Lolol yay for an update two weeks later. But in my defense I **_**have **_**been writing. Just. Most of it was schoolwork. Like I had to write an entire children's book for Spanish. And then I also wrote fanfiction during a writing game with Miss Fenway and that was a lot of fun. And I've had this outline for a long time but it just didn't seem to want to transfer from my brain to my laptop. And I made this chapter extra long by my standards. So. Yeah, okay, I'm done now. I'm out of excuses. Oh but also I'd like to say that even though this is about Logan my favorite character still hasn't changed and that will become very obvious after this chapter. Lol. Love you all! -hearts-**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

"My name is Logan."

He pulled the handle of the door with more force than he probably needed to, wrenching it back and pushing the door open. He practically fell onto the street, shoving himself up to avoid an early death by oncoming traffic. Horns honked all around him as he began to run, weaving between the cars and trying to ignore the shouts that followed from the Revenals telling him to stop. _Warning _him to stop. Between the hum of traffic and the continued horns, he just barely made out the words _don't be foolish_ and _come back _from behind him. The voices of the people who had taken care of him all these weeks, that had been his family…

Logan kept on running.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a light turn green, and a tiny voice in the back of his head screamed _GO! _His left foot finally hit the sidewalk and as soon as it did he was running, pushing through the crowds. The traffic wasn't moving much faster than it had been before, but things were picking up and it would only be a matter of time before the Revenals caught up. Logan pushed himself faster, ignoring the annoyed shouts of a group of pedestrians as he barreled into them, nearly sending a man to the ground. The light was already beginning to turn yellow- _thank god for L.A.'s awful traffic system- _and if he could just reach the corner…

The light turns red with the Revenals still behind a few other cars, and Logan nearly cried with relief as he finally reached the corner, running out onto the crosswalk…

Only to suddenly find himself hitting the windshield of a car.

He was lucky that the car had only just begun to accelerate, because otherwise he probably wouldn't have been breathing, let alone thinking coherently. As it was, he was left with only a slight daze and the headache that he'd had before was only marginally worse. He heard a car door opening and slamming shut as a familiar voice practically screamed, "Oh my god!" Logan opened his eyes, sitting up as quickly as he dared and placing a hand gingerly against the back of his head. No blood came away, and he decided he'd live. "Are you alright?" a voice asked from mere inches away, and Logan jumped a little. He turned his head quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, and found himself looking into hazel eyes that he'd know anywhere.

James.

_Perfect. _Logan wasn't sure if the thought was sarcastic or not. As his friend stared at him, all he could do was stare back, unsure of what to do next. On the one hand, his friend was now in a world of danger. It had been different at the mall, when the Revenals hadn't been around and Logan hadn't been in any immediate peril. Just being in his presence could very well be signing James' death warrant. On the other hand, James also had a car. A car meant a speedy getaway, and that's exactly what Logan needed. Without giving himself a chance to talk himself out of it, Logan quickly ran to the passenger's side of the car, practically throwing himself in. James was still standing there, face white and uncomprehending.

"James!" Maybe he heard the desperation in his voice, or maybe it was just finally starting to kick in that Logan was _here _and actually recognized him this time, but the boy snapped out of his stupor and locked eyes with his friend. He was back in the car in an instant, not bothering with his seat belt as he put the car in drive. And when Logan told him to step on it, he didn't question it, only floored it.

Downtown L.A. wasn't safe to drive fast in at its best, and the fact that rush hour was just beginning didn't make things any better. James was only going forty now, but he might as well have been going one fifty; Logan wasn't sure if they were going to swerve off the road or hit another car first. But James kept a steady hold of the wheel, and even when he took one hand off to finally buckle his seatbelt the car remained under his control.

They were about five minutes away from reaching the outskirts of the city when Logan finally noticed the car that had been slowly catching up to them. James still hadn't said a word, remaining completely focused on taking Logan however far he needed to go, but he had noticed the way that Logan couldn't seem to take his eyes of the Revenal's car. He eased his foot down further on the gas, trying to put a little more distance between them.

When they finally made it away from all the traffic, the road was shockingly empty. The sky, which has been dark all day, was finally beginning to open up, but even as the windshield gradually became more impossible to see out of, Logan stared. He stared at the trees, blurred by the rain, and even as he did a cell phone began to ring from where it was resting on the center console. Logan froze at that, flashes attacking his vision as he remembered the rest of that fateful night. Everything was so similar; _too _similar.

_It all ends where it began, _Logan thought darkly.

James' arm was a flash of movement as he threw the phone into Logan's lap, allowing his eyes to stray from the road momentarily to look his friend in the eye. "Answer it and tell them what's going on." It was then that Logan finally heard the fear in his voice. James had already turned his attention back to the road, but when Logan turned to look at him it became apparent just how truly scared James was. Logan felt a pang of guilt and made a silent vow to try to explain the mess he was in- that _they _were in- as soon as he was sure that someone else knew that they needed help.

"Hello?" There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and for one brief, panicked moment Logan thought that the caller had decided that they'd dialed the wrong number and simply hung up. Then there was a choked sound, and Logan wanted to cry, because in a strange, twisted way it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. "Logan?" He wasn't sure if it's Kendall or Carlos speaking to him, or maybe both, but he could already hear the questions that were sure to follow and he cut them off before they could even begin. "Look, I need you guys to listen to me very carefully. James is with me, we're on Bay Road, where I crashed a few months ago-" He looked to James for confirmation, just to make sure that they would know where the wreck had been- another flash of guilt- and when he received a sharp nod in response, he continued, "Look, they're right behind us. I need you to call someone, the police, and-"

There was a crunch, a sudden lurch in the car as something collided into it from behind, and whatever else he was going to say was lost as the car spun off the road.

As James struggled to regain control of the wheel and the rain began to pound harder, Logan could only close his eyes. _No. _It was just like before, but it _couldn't _be happening again. He knew the truth now, and there was no way he was going to let himself get taken back. They would get out of this; now that James was here and the others were getting help, everything would be okay. And that's exactly what Logan told himself, right up to the moment the car slammed head on into a tree.

The world went black for a minute as Logan was jerked forward in his seat, body slamming into the airbags as they deployed. He was only unconscious for a few seconds at the most, but when he finally forced his eyes open again his entire body was aching. He turned his head slowly to face James, grinding his teeth as he felt the whiplash in his neck. "James," he managed to croak out, feeling his heart pound harder when he saw his friend's closed eyes. The other boy seemed to stir ever so slightly but made no move to signal that he'd be conscious anytime soon.

Logan could distantly hear Carlos' and Kendall's screams from the little phone where he had dropped it, but he focused all his attention on moving his protesting body to open the door. His fingers wrapped around the handle and he tried with all his might not to move any part of his body but his arm as he pulled the handle back. It stopped abruptly, leaving the door shut, and Logan frowned. Bracing himself, he pulled harder. There was an identical stop as he pulled desperately and his heart sank. Jammed. The door was jammed.

"James," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "James." He heard the driver's door being opened, and felt a brief surge of hope. He turned his head as carefully as he could, a relieved smile touching his lips. "James, can you-" The words died in his throat. James hadn't moved an inch since Logan last looked at him. His eyes were still shut, his face lax in unconscious, and yet his door was opening. The panic returned then, and Logan's breath hitched in his throat as James was pulled out of his seat and into the rain. "No," he choked out. "James!" Another figure moved in view of the car, and Logan caught a quick glimpse of Dr. Gomez as hands reached for him.

The rain soaked him to the bone in minutes, but Logan was too busy taking in the scene before him to really notice. A few feet away stood Dr. Gomez, and arm wrapped around a still unresponsive James' chest as he pulled the boy towards a waiting car about twenty feet away. Logan didn't think much of this; he'd been getting weird vibes from the doctor since the beginning, and his head was still too fuzzy for him to think clearly anyway. His brain was only just beginning to register the fact that Mr. Revenal was dragging him by the arms in the same general direction, where Mrs. Revenal was standing next to their car.

The fog was beginning to lift a little, and as it did Logan began to struggle. His adrenaline was pumping now, and his fight or flight response was finally starting to kick in. Literally. He struggled against the grip Mr. Revenal had on his arms, kicking and hitting every inch he could. _"No," _he gasped out, sending a hard kick to the man's shin and pulling away frantically. His efforts did nothing to faze him, though, and Logan found himself getting closer and closer to the cars. If he didn't get away soon, there was telling if he ever would.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see James beginning to stir in Dr. Gomez's arms, shifting slightly and opening his eyes blearily. He caught Logan's eyes for a moment, blinking furiously as his mind registered whatever pain he was in and what was going on, before his head turned up. His eyes widened when they locked on the doctor's face, and although he was obviously straining himself he began to squirm. It was too late, though; they were already at the car.

James continued to struggle weakly, hands pulling desperately at the arms that encircled his chest. Logan caught the quick flash of irritation that flitted through the doctor's eyes, but before he could say something to warn him, James was suddenly beginning thrown against the hood of the car. Logan physically cringed when he saw his friend's body hit the metal before sliding to the ground with a muted thud. _This is bad. This is so, so, so, so, so, so-_

Mr. Revenal grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning Logan around and forcing him to look the man in the eyes. Mrs. Revenal came up behind them, and- was that _sincerity_ he saw in her eyes? "Now son, you know everything we've done for you has been out of love. We just wanted what was best for you, and Dylan, we-"

Logan heard a choked sound and turned to see James, still on the ground and staring up at him with wide, confused eyes. And that was when it finally hit Logan how horribly the Revenals have messed up his life. And it wasn't just the fact that they'd lied to him for the past few months and kept him completely in the dark. He was still in the midst of trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd been kidnapped and he was sure to have some lasting emotional trauma if he got out of the clearing alive, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. No, the real problem that Logan was having was the sudden realization of how incredibly destroyed it had left his friends.

The human brain is a funny thing; just weeks ago Logan was barely catching glimpses of his life before the accident- his _real _life- but everything had come flooding back the second he saw that music store so fast that it left his head aching. And now he remembered _everything. _The Palm Woods, the band, hockey, his dreams of being a doctor- everything. And more than that, he remembered his friends, and of their undying loyalty for each other. The image of James in that mall flashed through his mind, and he wanted to throw up when he recalled that brokenness. And then there was Kendall and Carlos, and god only knew if they were any better- or worse.

The image of his friends in that kind of agony snapped something inside of Logan. He jerked his gaze away from James, turning back to look the Revenals in the eyes. There was a fire burning inside him now. _No one _messed with his friends. "Stay away from me," he growled, pulling against Mr. Revenal's grip.

The man didn't let go completely but his hands relaxed a little bit, whether in surprise or just in general distress Logan would never know. But he recovered quickly and something flashed dangerously in his eyes. "Do you even realize how much we've done for you?" he demanded, his voice a mere whisper at first. It was practically a scream when he repeated, "Do you?"

Logan laughed then. Not in humor- they were long past the stage that joking could fix anything- but out of disgust. "What you've _done _for me? Okay, let's see. You kidnapped me off the side of the road while I was basically dying. Then you kept me under lock and key for weeks, even after I'd finally healed. Oh, and let's not forget how you completely lied to me the entire time. Thanks for that, _dad._" He practically spat the last work, glaring up into Mr. Revenal's eyes. Behind him Mrs. Revenal let out small gasp, looking between her husband and Logan with wide eyes.

Even through the pouring rain it was clear that Mr. Revenal's face has become a dangerous shade of red, and his grip tightened painfully on Logan's arms. "We've given up _so much _for you!" he yelled. "Do you think any of this was easy? We've done everything we could to make you happy and to be the family that you deserved, and _this _is how you repay us?" There was a flash of movement in the peripherals of their vision and the three turned just in time to see Dr. Gomez kick James back against the car as he tried to struggle to his feet.

Something seemed to register in Mr. Revenal's eyes and he turned back to Logan, jaw tight. "Is it him? That's it, isn't it. You think that now that he's found you everything will go back to the way it was before. Well guess what, Dylan?" He ignored Logan's harsh growl of, "Don't you _dare _call me that," and continued. "It won't. We'll take care of him," he said, jerking his head in James' direction, and Logan didn't like the sound of that, "and then things will go back to the way they were before, and we'll be a family again."

"You were never my family," Logan whispered. Their eyes widened, angry and sad all at the same time. Before they could respond, however, the area was suddenly lit up as another car swerved off the road. It looked for a moment as if the driver was going to lose control but finally they seemed to right themselves, swinging to a stop right next to the wreckage that had been James' car. Everyone froze as both the driver's and passenger door swung open and two figures stepped into the rain.

Kendall and Carlos.

Logan wanted to cry when he saw their faces. They looked around uncertainly at first, and when they saw James on the ground they looked like they might scream. But when their eyes locked on Logan, everything seemed to dissolve into shock. "Logan," Carlos said. His voice could just barely be heard over the rain, but the sound seemed to spur the two into action. They both took a step forward, looking like they were in some sort of trance.

The only warning Logan had was Mr. Revenal's sharp, "Don't!" before the man was wrapping an arm around him. It wasn't quite a chokehold but Logan was certainly having a harder time breathing than he had been before. His friends froze, but after a few moments Kendall somehow managed to find his voice. "We already called the cops," he warned, looking around uncertainly. "They'll be here any minute."

Logan felt a brief surge of relief when he heard that, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had come as the arm tightened around him. Next to him, James was once again kicked back to the ground, body colliding with the front of the doctor's car before landing in the wet grass. "You won't take him from us!" Everyone looked surprised to hear Mrs. Revenal speak. She looked hysterical now, having lost whatever composure she'd managed to maintain. "He's ours! You can't have him!"

The alarm on Kendall's and Carlos' faces would have been amusing under any other circumstances. The both lurched forward instinctively, that need to act under pressure surfacing like it had so many times in the past. Logan grunted as he was suddenly dragged backwards. "Stay back!" Mrs. Revenal screamed.

But it seemed that Kendall and Carlos were done listening and they took another bold step forward. The desperation was there for everyone to see. It had been so long since they'd seen their friend, and nothing was going to stop them from getting Logan back.

Except the Revenals.

Mrs. Revenal's hand disappeared into the car for a few seconds, searching for something, and when she finally pulled it back out she was holding something. Logan's breathe caught in his throat and his heart started hammering faster. _No. _He knew that they were crazy, but this… This…

_No._

Mrs. Revenal had a gun.

She swung the gun between Kendall, Carlos, and James, eyes wild. "You ruined _everything!" _she screeched. "You can't have him, _you can't have him!" _She was practically sobbing now, and that scared Logan. Not because he felt sorry for her, but because someone had once told him that shaky gun was so much more dangerous than a controlled one.

Even Dr. Gomez looked a little taken aback by the woman's sudden outburst, but he continued to keep a wary eye on James and the other boys. Kendall and Carlos had frozen, only about ten feet away now. No one seemed to know what to do next.

Except for Mr. Revenal, Logan thought in frustration as he was suddenly dragged backwards again. Immediately he began to struggle, ignoring the way the rain was nearly blinding him as he pulled.

Mrs. Revenal moved faster than Logan could even comprehend, and suddenly the gun was pointed at… James.

_No._

"This is all your fault," she murmurs. Her voice was frighteningly calm now, her aim steady. "Everything was so good before you came along." Everyone held their breath as her eyes darkened and her finger began to tighten on the trigger.

Everything seemed to slow, and suddenly Logan could see everything. The rain was coming down harder now, washing away the blood from James' forehead as he stared up into the barrel of the gun. Dr. Gomez had taken a step back, probably to avoid a stray bullet. In the background Logan could hear Kendall and Carlos screaming, _begging _her not to do it. Logan heard another voice screaming too, and by the time he finally recognized it as his own he had already wrenched himself away from Mr. Revenal in one last desperate attempt.

He reached out blindly, grabbing for Mrs. Revenal's arm. The gun swung around wildly, both of them fighting for control over the weapon. Blood pounded in Logan's ears as the gun pointed every which way, and he prayed that all of his friends had had the sense to take cover. And then the unthinkable happened.

The gun went off.

And then the clearing was silent again.

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**Wheeee I love cliffhangers. This chapter was so much better in my head though. Was my scatteredness showing? Probably. But I can promise you that I tried. :) I love you all so so much and I hope I'm not disappointing any of you too horribly. Reviews?**


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